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Favorite poems
= Grayed In = BY MARTHA COLLINS January 2009 1 Snow fallen, another going gone, new come in, open the door: each night I grow young, my friends are well again, my life is all before me, each morning I close a door, another door. 2 Cloud on cloud, gray on gray, snow fallen on snow, tree on tree on unleafed tree— only a river silvered with thin ice and a slash of gold in the late gray sky. 3 Grayed snow slush trudge but snow falling coating filling in for absence Present! child with stringed mittens here to take her place to take over on snow showing up air 4 White sky, whiter sun brushing trees with tints of red, then in the distance streaking mauve gold, filling in between the now filagreed trees, silhouettes against the now red burning sky. 5 As if letting go, dangling down, only down, through a cracked pane, a clear pane, weeping beech branches, roots in air, only the crack slant- ing up or (last night in sleep’s play a long red slide) sloping down 6 down buildings walls houses schools, no one building only bombing, months of little in, now nothing no one out, only down: bodies arms legs in Gaza where the eyeless man tore pillars house himself the people down 7 On this day, this birthday, I wish myself for the first time (who would be a child again?) back at that dining room table with him, his years of little more less back, not as in the note in her birthday book, died 84 yrs of age 8 snow rain ice stand walk fall little more less face flesh hand will is was oh yes no melt rain snow 9 Off the page, sliding or I brush or don’t see you, but without you, so cold, colder than stooped-by-age shoulder, oh flesh, hand, Love, come turn my page. 10 Tempered by age, passion, rage cool, no lost sleep— while in sleep they burn again, your fine hand igniting my thigh, live birds crushed under my feet, then morning grays again, aged back, writing died... of age 11 As body to body fall- ing together we burn again, snow drifts in air, turns, rolls almost horizontal, takes its own slow time off from falling 12 Gun to body, shell to body, bombs to bodies: three, five, now nine hundred bodies, over two hundred children’s bodies, over the border to Gaza to close the already closed border, not to meet, border to border: a border has no body, is only a side. 13 Epiphany missed, not the seen but the coming to see, or star, the minister said, light sensed against the dark, but not even the dark night, or the cold bright, snow roof over the roof below the darkness before— only gray, industrial gunmetal battleship slate gray, and the coming of gray 14 Friend Sleep has betrayed me I’m trapped in a castle with villainess villain two doors open a third slams down before the darkness I’m trapped in a room my friends accuse me I hide my sheets I cannot tell them I’m dying and then awaking I’m hurting (why these dreams?) my betraying self 15 In sleep a holocaust rations trapped in a kitchen ovens coming why not eat them if food is scarce— In Gaza food is scarce, power lost, the UN Compound, a hospital hit today, now over 1000 dead— But see, here, History: the Future: some hope, though still rationed, is Coming Soon. 16 stuck zipper sticky egg wiped off mouth mother’s mouth lined around but pursed now closer why not eat touch again all right merge again then zip: put sleep to sleep 17 Today the train too fast they said too soon they said not yet they said to Washington all right now a black man to the White House on the train. 18 On his way to the Capitol largely built by slaves who baked bricks, cut, laid stone— on his way to stand before the Mall where slaves were held in pens and sold— on his way to a White House partly built by slaves, where another resident, after his Proclamation, wrote: If slavery is not wrong, nothing is wrong. 19 One hundred years later, King said and said to the crowd on the Mall, Now is the time and We can never be satisfied as long as, he dreamed: every valley exalted, all these years until not an end, they said, a beginning 20 O bless hold help keep him safe, let him help us through this cold, let us help him help us through this cold, let its end be O yes a beginning. 21 Cold is in the air, troops are finally out of Gaza where 1300 dead are on or in the ground where olive trees are up- rooted, down, spoons a coloring book limbs shoes in the rubble— In the depths of winter, he said. Today he is In, at work. 22 White roof over the roof, white branches clinging to branches, even the still fallen snow is moving, even icicles shift toward dripping, nothing, not even the cold bodies we are becoming is not moving, not even the ground is not moving, over, on 23 Beyond my windowed wall, gray clouds move over clouds, beyond the Wall that grays Gaza, dust over dust of disturbed bodies, wall with drawn- in windows, winter mirror 24 cold heart comfort shoulder feet hands water drawn in from left out take stay sober stone grave still body turn on light open to warm up front heart 25 fallen snow shifts blows drifts from tree to ground, leaves the beautiful skeletal limbs open to only all over air wind lifts then lets fall 26 He stumbled but still, she blundered but still, they said what they shouldn’t have said and recovered, of course they are the great but even the small (though all, we early learn, may fall) may leave the mistaken, misspoken behind as late we stumble into our selves. 27 maybe not long, you said, cancer cancer cancer, c’s crashing like waves— waves of frozen foam that day on that lake— you who please don’t go I can late we I can better Love I 28 mouth with you to mouth with you to body with you in body embodied, not yet un- bodied Love I can better no room so warm as with— I think I thought I could I can but not without you 29 In Vietnam: new year of the water buffalo, steady, slow, welcomed with peach blossoms, fruits, red wine— In Gaza: year of the new war, now ended but no room to bury the dead, no place for the living to buy food, water, any ... 30 for the woman who cooks on a fire of sticks, her bag of clothes on a tree for those going home to water their trees, lemon and almond and olive and for those trees 31 snow to rain to ice to melt to freeze frame window grayed in with old self same but new has come can better Love I—going home bless keep clean gray slate not white or black for even these few words, this small rain = Twilight = BY RAE ARMANTROUT Where there’s smoke there are mirrors and a dry ice machine, industrial quality fans. If I’ve learned anything about the present moment • But who doesn’t love a flame, the way one leaps into being full-fledged, then leans over to chat • Already the light is retrospective, sourceless, is losing itself though the trees are clearly limned. = A Boat = BY RICHARD BRAUTIGAN O beautiful was the werewolf in his evil forest. We took him to the carnival and he started crying when he saw the Ferris wheel. Electric green and red tears flowed down his furry cheeks. He looked like a boat out on the dark water. = Still I Rise = BY MAYA ANGELOU You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may tread me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I'll rise. Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? 'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells Pumping in my living room. Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise. Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops. Weakened by my soulful cries. Does my haughtiness offend you? Don't you take it awful hard 'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines Diggin' in my own back yard. You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I'll rise. Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise That I dance like I've got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs? Out of the huts of history's shame I rise Up from a past that's rooted in pain I rise I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide. Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear I rise Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise I rise I rise.